The Dark
by Ankhasia Riddle
Summary: "Do you know why you're afraid when you're alone? I do. I do..."So Ivan's afraid of the dark, and how will he react when the lights cut off at a world meeting?
1. Crawling

**I was inspired to write this by a fic I came across before...XD**

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Ivan sat at the table, along with everyone else. The Baltics, he saw, were as far from him as they could get.

He snorted. _I never hurt them. It's only them and everyone else that think I would…_

As America rose, everyone fell silent from their own idle chatter.

"Well, uh, I hope this should be quite quick, you know, because I have an appointment with-"

"Get on with it you idiot and we can be done!"

England had stood and was facing America with irritation all over his features.

"Okay! Dude, stay calm!"

Russia closed his eyes momentarily to escape the idiots for a second. He opened them again, and America started to talk again.

"Anyway, I was hoping you guys could help out Greece, I mean he's kinda stuck-"

He was interrupted when suddenly the lights went out.

For a second Russia blinked repeatedly, thinking he had gone blind. Then he understood.

Ivan stiffened, fighting voices whispering in his head. _Your fault your fault your fault…_

In his imagination, but it seemed vividly real, blood dripped on his coat from above, and although in the dark he was blind, he looked up, and saw the faces of all his dead, twisted and frozen in death.

Speechless, he backed away, tripping over his chair.

America, on the other side of the table, the other side of the world for Ivan, was telling everyone to wait until he found the emergency light switch.

Ivan scrambled back, attempting to escape the horrors that were haunting him, and stared as a stain on the floor turned red, and spread, blood soaking everything.

The other nations sat, unmoving in case they hit another and unintentionally started a war. Patiently, they waited, and America crawled toward a wall.

Shaking, Ivan bumped into a wall and followed it until he was in a corner. The blood was nearly upon him, and as he looked at his arms he saw multiple cuts that oozed blood.

America was almost on the switch. He stood up, feeling along the wall.

As fear dug deeper into him, Ivan felt a scream escape him, and he curled up, squeezing his eyes shut to everything.

America jumped as a scream echoed through the room, and found the switch, turning it on.

The other nations relaxed, and looked around for the source of the sound. America's eyes frantically scanned the others faces, concern for whomever was scared controlling him.

Everyone's eyes suddenly fell on the upturned chair in Russia's place.

Then, slowly, America walked around the table, staring at the chair, the chills creeping down his back, and he resisted the urge to shiver.

Then a movement caught his eye, and his eyes widened at the sight.

Russia, _Russia_, the strongest nation he knew, was huddled in a corner, child-like, and shivering in fear.

Alfred slowly approached him, kneeling down.

Carefully, gently, he laid a hand on Ivan's arm.

"Ivan?" He whispered.

Shaking, Ivan lowered his arms, and America fought the reaction of screaming.

Ivan's face was covered in deep cuts, disfiguring his usually smooth features.

Trembling, Ivan looked up with eyes that were streaming with tears, eyes that did not recognise America.

"Help me…"

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**Now, it could either end here or continue...what do you think?**

**Flames will be used to stoke your funeral pyre.**


	2. Runaway

**I wonder if any of you have recognised the quote in the summary? It's in theis chapter too...**

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"_Help me…"_

America had taken the Russian out of the room to the nearest hospital, and as the doctor had gently wiped the cuts clean he had sat with him, unmovable.

Ivan had sat, staring at something Alfred could not see, trembling slightly, not responding to the doctor's questions.

The doctor was a middle-height girl, around twenty, with gentle hands so not to hurt the Russian, and clever blue-green eyes.

"Do you have any idea how this happened?" she asked Alfred, not turning from her work.

Alfred looked down. "No. We were in a meeting and then the lights turned off. While I was trying to find the switch we heard a scream and when I turned the lights on he was in the corner all huddled up like..." he waved a hand.

"Like this." She said, setting down the cloth and producing gauze from her medical kit.

Alfred watched as she patched up Ivan's face, gently pressing on each cut to ensure the bandages would stay in place. She looked carefully into his eyes.

"I would say he has gone through some sort of trauma. He needs rest, and sleep."

At this, Ivan blinked, and shook his head. "No…I can't sleep."

The doctor sighed, and moved herself closer to the man.

"You need to sleep, Ivan. May I call you Ivan?"

He nods.

"Well, Ivan. You appear to have gone through some form of shock. Can you remember why this happened?" She asked.

He looks at her. "Do you know why you're afraid when you're alone? I do. I do..." Ivan shivers and looks down.

The doctor rose, and turned to America. "If you are alright, I'm going to recommend you take him to see a friend of mine. He is a psychiatrist, and should know what to do with Ivan here."

Speechless, Alfred took the card she held out, and waited until she had gone from the room to bin it. He could deal with Ivan himself.

Gently he took the Russian's arm and guided him to the car. Ivan was silent all the way back, staring out of the window.

"Ivan, how did it happen?" Alfred asked. Ivan continued to stare out of the window. Irritation sparked in America's chest, and he slammed his hands on the wheel, causing Ivan to jump, and the car to swerve out of control. Drivers behind them beeped their surprise and Alfred honked the horn in return.

Russia looked down. "I can't…explain…"

Slowly, Alfred pulled the car up to his house, and turned off the engine. A flare of impatience rose in him, and as he turned to see Ivan looking so helpless, bandages all over his face, he pushed it down, guilt gripping him instead.

Tentatively, Alfred leaned forward. "Ivan," he whispered. "You know you can talk to me. If you need to."

Ivan nodded, something Alfred couldn't recognise flashing in his eyes. "I…I can't forget their faces. They come back to me."

"Who's faces?" he leaned further forward, closer to Ivan, concern taking hold.

Ivan looked straight at America, his deep purple eyes filled with fear and something else, a need for something.

Alfred had no idea what. But this close up, Alfred could see Ivan's eyes were captivating. He could almost understand why the Baltics always went back-

"My dead." The two words cut through Alfred's spiralling train of thought like a knife.

"Y-Your…" Shit. Fear pricked the back of Alfred's mind. Ghosts…had always freaked him out since England had accidently raised a very pissed off Abigail Williams who had in turn chased them both round the house wielding a knife until Arthur had remembered the spell to send her back to the dead. The horror must had shown on his face because Ivan swept his eyes over his features and pulled back.

"I'm sorry." He said, sharply. "I should not have said anything."

"No!" America reached out a hand to stop him as the Russian reached for the door handle. "I-It's fine. Honestly. You can talk to me." He had to concentrate so not to bash his head against the window in frustration.

Russia sat back, looking unsure. "Every night. It's only in the dark that they come, and I see them all. Every single one of them."

Alfred resisted the urge to shiver.

"I look at them, and I know how every single one of them died. They all blame me for it, and there is nothing I can do."

Russia was looking at his hands. "I am weak."

America shook his head. "No. No you are not weak. Like any of us, you find it hard to forget any of your people. I myself used to have nightmares about the second world war, until England took me to the side and told me to let them go. All it takes, he said, is to forgive yourself."

Russia turned to him. "Well I'm afraid, that will not happen for a long time." Without waiting for response Ivan got out of the car.

Alfred could only look on.

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**Review?**

**Flames will be used to stoke your funeral pyre...**


	3. In The End

**Hey. Don't shoot m-*shot at***

***ducks*  
**

**Hey I know I haven't updated for a while! Here you go! I've started naming chapters btw, after songs by my favourite band. The songs go with the chapters I think, and anyone who guesses the band correctly gets a cooki-*shot at*  
**

**Fine! Here you go.  
**

**Much thanks to waltz-in-the-moonlight, hetalia-deathnote-kuroshitsuji, Sigart, LilyRosetheDreamer, TheCrazyChick, Startled Boris, anonomas russia fan, Mashy-Gaara4life, ChubbyCubby23, cant login(lol I hope you can now), Rebecca Calzone, Storm Dryu, Anya, xxLuckyAlyCatxx, Pedro-IS-Madi12, bunniesareninjas, Mariko Midori, mercia'lolli, MidoriRaven, mosspath of riverclan 030, Orithyea, PaperDream, softballqueen219, Sora Moto for reviewing, favouriting and alerting! Love you all! And your names are epic XD  
**

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Ivan angrily stomped into his house, muttering to himself. "As if I could just forget, just like that, and it would all be fine. I thought he got it but no, even America doesn't understand."

Slumping into his chair, Ivan was oblivious to the fading sunlight, immersed in his own thoughts, hands in his pale hair as he stared at the floor.

_Why can't they just leave me alone...?_

...

Alfred watched Ivan slam the door to his house, feeling helpless and frsutrated. Unlike Ivan, he saw the setting sun, and started the engine, albeit with no real intention of driving on.

Instead, he sat, staring at the house, wondering why, with the approuaching darkness, Ivan had not drawn the curtains and turned on the lights. He causght a glimpse of movement in one of the rooms ad could just make out Russia sat on a chair, head down, shaking.

_Maybe I should go in..._

Hesitating, Alfred opened the car door.

Then sat there, on the brink of what felt like a knife edge, equal chance of tipping either way, of going in or driving away. Wrestling with his mind, America was clueless for what to do. He could go in, and risk facing Ivan's wrath, or worse, Ivan's fears, or he could drive away, leaving the Russian alone, in the dark with his fears, by himself.

The second option, Alfred decided, was hardly the heroic choice.

_Screw it _he thought.

Slamming the car door shut, he walked up the path to the house, and knocked on the door.

"Ivan?" Alfred called out. "Hey buddy! You in there?"

There was no response. America was about to turn away and walk back when he heard a shout of alarm from somewhere inside, and a loud crash resounded throughout the house. Slightly worried, he knocked again, harder, calling out.

"Ivan! Open up!"

It was when he heard another shout, did he try the doorknob.

_Locked. God dammit._

As the noise increased, America stepped back, and ran at it, slamming his shoulder into the wood. Pain flaired in his shoulder and he swore loudly as he clutched his arm.

"What the hell is this made of...?" he muttered.

Taking a few steps back again, he kicked it, hearing a crack as the wood splintered. A final kick and it opened, and Alfred walked in.

Silence filled the house, a hostile silence, like on found in a prison whe walking past the cells, knowing you were being watched. Goosebumps ran down his arms, and he looked around. Dust had settled on every shelf, the few ornament Ivan owned covered un the ugly grey fluff, obscuring what Alfred presumed were probably intracate and complicated patterns.

"Ivan?"

The vast emptiness of the house echoed his voice, but gave the man no reply.

Alfred walked down the corridor, noticing a half open door. Pushing it open, the sight that met his eyes brought four words from his mought before he could stop them.

"Oh shit, not again."

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**There you go! Again, what band?**

**Flames will be used to stoke your funeral pyre.  
**


	4. Bleed It Out

**I liked this...hehehe. Looky here, quick update! Congrats to ChubbyCubby23 and -anonomas russia fan- who both correctly guessed the band! Linkin Park FTW I love them.**

******Much thanks to waltz-in-the-moonlight, hetalia-deathnote-kuroshitsuji, Sigart, LilyRosetheDreamer, TheCrazyChick, Startled Boris, anonomas russia fan, Mashy-Gaara4life, ChubbyCubby23, cant login, Rebecca Calzone, Storm Dryu, Anya, xxLuckyAlyCatxx, Pedro-IS-Madi12, bunniesareninjas, Mariko Midori, mercia'lolli, MidoriRaven, mosspath of riverclan 030, Orithyea, PaperDream, softballqueen219, Sora Moto, Hero of the Mind, xxDangerousPiexx, Animechic420, ThatPurplyThing for reviewing, favouriting and alerting! Love you all!**

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Ivan was curled up on the floor, bandages carelessly ripped off and thrown in a corner. Blood had began to soak into the carpet, and Alfred rushed foward.

"Ivan!" he said, fear for his friend causing him to abandon any thought of ghosts or some such. He lay a hand on the man's shoulder, shaking him, and checked for a pulse. There it was, and beating strong.

_Thank God..._

Ivan stirred, and immediately Alfred turned him over, calling his name, oblivious to the shadows behind him growing larger.

"W-What are you...?" Russia's eyes opened, seeing Alfred, and widened in surprise and outrage. Sharply he sat up, pushing him away, and looking wildly around.

"Ivan?" America was dumbfounded.

_Dammit Ivan just tell me what's going on._

The Russian was edging in front of him, looking toward the door, strangly putting his arms in a protective way around Alfred. It was then that America became aware of the darkness and wildly shaped shadows that surrounded them.

Something in his chest tightened, then, and a whispering had started to creep up behind them.

"Ivan?" Alfred managed to croak out. Fear had closed around his throat like an iron-tight fist.

The whispering grew louder, and he could just make out that Russia had started to breathe faster. Alfred gripped his arms, catching a few words in the whispering. Ghosts, shadows, whatever.

_Your fault...could have saved us...never forgive..._

By now fear had paralyzed them both, but at this, Alfred managed to stumble forward, bumping into Ivan, who in turn took a step forward. He could see that the door was still open, and a line of moolight was spilling into the hallway where America had kicked his way in.

Taking what he thought was his only chance, he grabbed the taller nations hand and dragged him through the doorway into the hall, and they broke into a run together, fleeing from the house and scrambling into his car, America's heart beating like a drum against his chest. Not about to wait around, he started the engine, and sped off as Russia clicked on his seatbelt, tyres screeching against the road.

...

When they arrived at his house, many hours later, Ivan had fallen asleep, the occasional twitch or moan causing Alfred to jump and glance at him before returning his eyes to the road. No words had been spoken for the whole of the journey, and Alfred now sat in the driver's seat outside his house, engine off, listening to the quiet rustle of the man's breathing.

Gently, he touched his shoulder. "Ivan?" The Russian's eyes fluttered, opened, and sat up, looking around wildly before recognising where he was, and relaxing. Alfred smiled.

"Hey, we're here." _At last._

They got out, Ivan glancing fearfully into the shadows as America fiddled with the keys, taking what felt like an hour. Finally he opened the door, flicking on the lights, the brightness washing over Russia, expelling the darkness behind.

"Thank you, Alfred." The words formed themselves on his lips before he had a chance to think about them. _Not as of you'd take them back though, is it?_

America turned, his infuriating sticking-up hair bouncing as he did so, smiling brightly. "No problem. I _am_ the hero, after all." He walked toward the stairs, glancing back. "C'mon," he said, "I'll show you were you can sleep. My house is pretty huge, like yours I think, so I have plenty of spare rooms." I van watched as he talked whilst climbing the stairs, his hands parting wihely to exaggarate the size of his house.

When they reached the top, Alfred lead him down the hallway, carelessly flicking the light switch, clearly unafraid. Shame flickered in Ivan's chest before he buried it. "Now since you have an...issue with dark, I reckon you'd appreciate a room with a large window on the east side, as the sun rises there, and it's a few rooms down from mine, so you can keep the light on all night and it won't bother me at all." He had been saying all this, Ivan saw, as if it really was no trouble.

America gestured to a room as he had described. There was a large bed next to the window, ensuringsunlight would wake him of he chose to leave the curtains open. For now they were closed. Ivan turned to Alfred, suddenly lost in his blue eyes.

"I really am grateful." He said, quietly. They were almost nose-to-nose, and America hadn't stepped back, drawing an urge high in his mind, and for once Ivan decided to ride the boat and go with it.

Russia kissed him, running a hand through those blonde curls. When America didn't resist he pushed him against the wall, mashing their lips together. Ivan would have pulled away but it was so impulsive, so hot and _so fucking good_ that he couldn't bring himself to stop. It was when Alfred brought his hand up to pull him closer did Ivan's sense's return.

Pulling back, he didn't wait, disappearing into the room, the door closing with a click, leaving America outside, flushed and breathing heavily.

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**Damn I liked that one. Who wants a nosebleed worthy scene in that bed? Tell me in review plz XD**

**Flames will be used to stoke your funeral pyre.  
**


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